10Convalescence
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The bitter wind cut into his exposed cheek and he raised the scarf to cover his face again. He'd been in this dimension before, was now somewhat familiar with the unforgiving tundra, but it wasn't a good place to stay in. Not with his current supplies, anyway – if he didn't find a trading post or another portal soon, he'd freeze to death despite the protective gear he'd managed to scramble together these last few years. Less than an hour out in the environment, and his limbs were already freezing. Thank God, he had invested in some sturdier goggles a short while back or he doubted he'd be able to see past three feet of himself. At this point, the only good thing about all this snow was that he couldn't feel the wound on his arm pulsing anymore.
An enraged howl reached his ears.
…On second thought, the current blizzard was also good for covering up his tracks and scent from predators. Still, the howl sounded too close for comfort.
It was time to pick up the pace.
Not that he could move much faster than he was already going. He'd gotten into a tussle with some of the more aggressive natives in the previous dimension before escaping into this one. He might have pulled one of the muscles in his legs again but he could walk it off. He'd been through a lot worse by now, anyway.
Another howl – closer, this time. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.
Keep moving, keep moving, don't flinch, don't stop, dumbass, or they'll–
His heart jumped as, out of the corner of his vision, he spotted something dark. He barely ducked fast enough to avoid the enormous beast that leaped over him. Wild, white fur came into view and a snarling face with parted black lips to show off alarmingly large, sharp teeth growled at him.
Straightening, he pulled the gun off his back. Lined up for the shot, and–
A portal exploded into being just a few feet off, the force of it blasting both him and the beast of their feet. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing the gun and shot the predator to no discernible effect. Well, one discernible effect – it made the thing angrier. Its roar shook his bones and covered his goggles with spittle.
He laughed weakly, taking a step back as he glanced at the portal. Just a little closer…
He leaped through it just as the beast tried to make a swipe at him.
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He landed on the other side on his hands and knees, heart beating hard and fast as he scrambled to his feet. There was someone in front of him, standing in the dim … wherever he was, and he raised his gun again, shouting in all the languages he'd picked up over the years. Who are you? Where is this? What do you want?
And then, the person spoke. "…Stanley?"
He stilled, his breathing hitched. Stanley. And then, it clicked. He was – after all this time–!
He breathed, "Stanford?"
The other person – Stanford – stepped closer, and he began to recognize the structure of the face, the brown hair, the glasses… Familiar even after all these years; it was hard to forget your own face, after all. The lights flickered to life and they stared at each other.
His twin brother, here … he was - he was on earth again.
He was on earth-!
"Stanley, is that really you?"
He blinked, jarred out of his thoughts. Of course Stanford didn't recognize him, not with the way he was dressed! Abruptly, he ripped off the scarf and goggles. There was no need of them at the moment, anyways. Distantly, he heard the portal being powered down behind him. Good, that was good – he never wanted to have to go through another one of those again in his life.
Stanford sounded like he was choking.
He stepped forward, arms raised in a helping gesture. "Hey, you okay there, buddy?" Fuck, it had been so long since he'd spoken English. He reached Stanford but hesitated from actually touching his brother. Nothing seemed like the right thing to do anymore and his arms fell to his sides as he watched his brother tear up in front of him.
"Stanley, what happened to you?" No tears actually fell but his twin's eyes glistened and his shook and he hated how helpless he felt right now. "Why do you look so… so…"
He waited.
"…Old?"
If it were anyone else, he knew he would have been mildly insulted. But Stanford didn't joke – not about these sorts of things, and he found himself at a loss as to what to say. He shrugged lamely, keenly feeling the ache in his shoulders as he did so. "Time passed, Stanford."
"It's only been three years!"
Had it? He looked away, wondering – exactly how long had he spent, hopping between what had often felt like every dimension except his? "Three years is still a long while… and time moves differently in different dimensions."
"Is that so?" A small spark of interest flickered in his twin's eyes before dying out. "…Come on, let's not stay here."
"Good idea."
Damn, were they awkward.
He followed Stanford out of the basement, drinking in his surroundings. Oddly enough, he remembered the place being … bigger. More mysterious, but he didn't know anything then. Still, the elevator… did his brother really have to make the only way out of the basement so darned small? It was like being stuffed into a matchbox.
"Are you alright, Stanley?"
He shook himself slightly. He had faced down giant tentacle monsters, he could stand to be in a small space for less than a minute. "Yeah, sure – Sixer." He flashed a hopefully friendly smile at his brother. It felt unfamiliar on him, almost unnatural. He stepped into the elevator, too aware of the entryway closing behind him with a small click.
The tension was so thick it was almost drinkable.
Talk about drinks…
They stepped into the living room and he once again looked around. It was more or less the same room filled with even more weird, unidentifiable objects. "Got any water?" he asked as he dropped himself down on the couch. It was gloriously soft and plush. He closed his eyes for a moment while Stanford went off to the kitchen but found that he couldn't stay still for long.
The wound on his arm was starting to hurt again. He shrugged off his coat and rolled his sleeve up. It … didn't look good. Hopefully, Stanford had some medical supplies. Hell, he'd even settle for some clean rags to wrap himself up with.
"Stanley!"
He nearly jumped as he whipped his head up to see his brother rush up to him, face pale. Stanford set the glass of water down on the coffee table before grabbing his arm – he fought back a flinch – and examining it with an intensity that took him aback somewhat.
"What happened to you?"
With his other hand, he scratched the back of his neck, feeling ridiculously sheepish. "The other guy had a knife. But don't worry," he added quickly, "I don't think it's poisoned."
Stanford let out a long breath, not looking at all reassured. "Wait here, I have some medical supplies…"
It was strange, being looked after by his twin brother, but not unpleasant. It was even stranger, having physical contact that wasn't aggressive. His skin tingled somewhat from the ministrations and he repeatedly told himself to relax. This was Stanford – he wasn't going to hurt him. He was on earth. There was no bounty on his head – not in this state, anyway, if he remembered correctly – no poisonous air that would kill him if he didn't find a way out in a few days, no deadly, otherworldly beasts that craved his flesh.
He was home.
"Stanley, a-are you – crying?"
He started, realizing the warm wetness on his face. And then–
Warmth. Pressure. But not unpleasantly so, even if his breathing was a little more constricted. His breathing hitched and he fought down the instinct to lash out, to tense, to fight.
Stanford was hugging him.
"I'm sorry," his brother gasped into his shoulder. He sounded like he was close to crying, too. "I'm so, so, so, so sorry, Stanley."
Slowly, he brought up his arms to return Stanford's embrace. "It – it's okay, Ford … Sixer…" He forced in a deep, shuddering breath. "It's okay." He drew back, just enough for them to see eye to eye – and suddenly, it struck him how young Stanford was. But he also took in the prominent bags under his brother's eyes, the premature frown lines on his forehead and how thin he had felt during the hug.
He looked his brother straight in the eye. "I'm home."
Everything was going to be okay, now.
It had to be.
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Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading 'Convalescence'!
- I may or may not continue this. However, if I do, it will probably be a bunch of one-shots set in the same AU instead of one whole plot.
